Blue Christmas
by slantedknitting
Summary: Modern AU. Arthur's alone on Christmas for the first time in his life and he almost can't cope until Merlin steps in to quietly take Arthur home to Ealdor for the holiday.


Arthur starts staying late at work at the beginning of December. He does it gradually, staying 15 or 30 minutes later on some days and not on other days, until no one really notices anymore. By the second week, he's staying until 6:30, at least.

When he comes home, he does it quietly. He doesn't spend time battling with his mailbox or jingling his keys or stopping to play with his neighbour's dog. He takes care to make as little noise as possible so that his neighbours don't confront him about his new hours.

It's a small building and he's on a first-name basis with everyone else who lives there, even though he would prefer not to be. He knows more than he would care to about his downstairs neighbour's health, more because the old man _loves_ to talk about it than because Arthur's ever asked. He knows his upstairs neighbour's schedule by heart because he relies on the sounds she and her dog make in the morning to wake him up; he hasn't used an alarm clock since he's moved in. He knows probably everything there is to know about the bloke across the hall's job because the man really doesn't know how to shut up, even when Arthur's eyes have completely glazed over at all the boring librarian talk.

Arthur almost gets caught on the Thursday before Christmas, when he comes home well past nine o'clock and only barely manages to get inside his flat before Merlin, the talkative librarian, bursts into the hall. He watches through the peephole as Merlin eyes his door suspiciously, takes a few tentative steps towards it, and then seems to change his mind and head down the stairs instead.

For a brief moment, Arthur wishes that Merlin had knocked on his door and been inappropriately nosey about why he was coming home so late. He likes talking to Merlin, even though Merlin has a tendency to ramble about truly boring and unimportant things. Merlin is also funny and sweet and a little bit beautiful, with his bright blue eyes and his goofy ears and his sharp cheekbones and his full, plump, mouth-watering, fantasy-inducing, wank-worthy lips.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Arthur puts on music and spends some time cooking himself a nice meal. He watches a DVD, not trusting the telly and its holiday-obsessed adverts, and eats his dinner on the couch. It's relaxing; he's seen this film enough that he can choose when to pay attention and when to focus on his food or smoothing out all the wrinkles in the tie he hasn't taken off yet or debating whether or not he should return his sister's phone calls.

She's in the States, taking over Hollywood with her terrifying determination and probably her sex appeal, but Arthur tries not to think about that too much. They're not going to see each other anytime soon but Arthur still doesn't feel the need to update Morgana on every second of his life. He'll call her on Christmas, mostly because he knows she won't forgive him if he doesn't, but he can't bring himself to call her before then. He knows she's worried about him and he can't really blame her. He would be worried about her, too, if she had been ignoring his calls for a month.

When the film ends, Arthur cleans his dishes by hand and takes a long, hot shower before curling up under his covers with an eye mask and earplugs that will fall out the first time he turns over.

It's the same thing he's done every weeknight this month, except for when he orders takeaway instead of cooking. It's not much, but it's all that he can manage. He doesn't want to chat with his neighbours or have mates over or try to convince Morgana he's fine when he's not fine. He just wants to be left alone until January.

**-xxx-**

It takes Leon a day full of pestering to convince Arthur to come along to happy hour that Friday. Arthur was planning on staying at work for a few extra hours before going home to do the same thing he did night before, but eventually he gets tired of Leon's constant badgering.

The pub is dark and crowded and sort of perfect, somehow. Arthur talks easily with his mates from work and it occurs to him that it's been weeks since he said more than a few words to anyone outside of the office.

He acts as much like himself as he can, but it's impossible not to notice the way everyone is treating him. Leon hasn't moved from his spot next to Arthur all night, as if he's worried Arthur will flee at the first opportunity. Lance keeps trying to ask him about his family and his non-work friends and how he spends his weekends. Gwaine spends most of the night pointing out random women in the pub and suggesting that Arthur try chatting them up. Elyan says a lot of fortifying things about friendship and support, clapping Arthur on the shoulder each time. Percy doesn't say much but he laughs extra hard at all of Arthur's jokes and Arthur can't help but smile in return.

Arthur gets drunk on whiskey and friends and the reminder that he belongs somewhere, with people who care for him and who will still be there for him in January when he comes out of his slump.

Leon gives him a ride home and Arthur gives him an overly-emotional car hug before stumbling across the pavement and into his building. It takes him a bit longer than usual to climb up the stairs to his floor and dig the keys out of his pocket and find the one that fits into the doorknob.

"Arthur," someone behind him says when he finally manages to open his door.

Arthur turns around to see Merlin standing in his own doorway, looking amused. His eyes immediately go to Merlin's lips. They look chapped and bitten but still annoyingly kissable.

"How are you?" Merlin asks, taking a step into the hallway. "I haven't seen you around lately."

"Been busy at work," Arthur explains. He struggles to wrench his key back out of the doorknob.

"Are you taking time off for Christmas, at least?"

"Unfortunately," Arthur says without thinking.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's nothing," Arthur insists.

"Are you going anywhere?"

Arthur shakes his head.

"Is your family coming here?"

Arthur shakes his head again.

"Do you have siblings?" Merlin asks. "What about your parents?"

Arthur twists his doorknob a few times. He's never realized that his neighbours know so little about him; he feels like he knows so much about them that it's sort of jarring to think about how one-sided the conversations have been.

"My sister's in America," he explains, his eyes on the doorknob he's still fiddling with. "My dad died earlier this year. Right before I moved in here."

"I'm so sorry," Merlin says quickly, taking another step closer. Arthur looks up at the movement and something in his face must express his apprehension because Merlin doesn't move again. "I had no idea," he continues in a quiet voice.

Arthur shrugs, not sure what to say.

"So you're just going to be here for Christmas?" Merlin asks, his brow creased.

Arthur nods.

"That's terrible," Merlin says, the words dripping with empathy that Arthur can't handle from someone who is essentially a stranger.

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He doesn't know where those words come from because it's not fine and he's not used to it. Nothing could be farther from the truth. He can't think of anything worse than the prospect of spending Christmas alone.

Merlin doesn't seem to know what to say to that, so Arthur steps into his flat.

"I'll see you around, Merlin."

"Happy Christmas, Arthur," he hears Merlin saying as he closes the door.

**-xxx-**

Arthur spends his weekend working through most of his TV-on-DVD collection, watching episode after episode after episode until he's numb.

He continues this on Monday, fighting the urge to go into work even though the entire office is closed. He goes out in the evening to stock up on food and beer.

He considers inviting Leon over for company, just so he doesn't lose his mind, until he remembers that Leon is already out in the country somewhere with loved ones and presents and Christmas trees.

He doesn't sleep very well that night.

**-xxx-**

It's Christmas Eve on Tuesday and Arthur plans to stay in bed all day. He only manages to lie in until ten o'clock though, because someone starts banging on his door.

Arthur opens it in his pajamas and without checking the peephole, his heart thumping at the idea of Morgana surprising him.

It's not Morgana.

It's Merlin.

It's surprisingly hard for Arthur to talk himself down from bursting into tears.

"You look terrible," Merlin says by way of greeting. He moves forward and Arthur steps back automatically, letting Merlin into his flat. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"No-"

"Have you got anything? If not, I can go make you eggs at mine."

Arthur follows Merlin to his kitchen and watches, baffled, as Merlin starts going through his cupboards.

"I am capable of feeding myself, you know."

"I'm sure you are, but you should eat a big breakfast. It's a bit of long ride." Merlin puts some bread in the toaster and starts digging around in Arthur's fridge.

"Long ride to where?" Arthur asks, nonplussed.

"Ealdor," Merlin says, pulling out a carton of eggs. He breaks them over a bowl and whisks them together, humming cheerfully to himself.

Arthur watches for a while, wondering if he finally has lost his mind from lack of sleep and human companionship. He figures that his brain has invented this scenario, complete with an aggressively friendly Merlin who has perfectly styled bed hair and a flush on his cheeks from the draft in their building.

When Merlin shoves a mug of tea and a plate of scrambled eggs and toast at him, Arthur takes them to his table and starts eating without question. He's worried that if he talks too much, he'll wake up from this strange dream.

Merlin sits opposite him and watches him eat for a few minutes.

"You have a suitcase, I presume?"

Arthur offers Merlin a slice of toast, but Merlin just shakes his head.

"I already ate, thanks."

Arthur shrugs and keeps eating. It's the first time in a long time that someone else has made food for him without him paying for it.

"We're going to my mum's," Merlin finally explains when Arthur is on his late bite. "It's about three hours away but I have a lot of good car music on my iPod. I was going to stay until Saturday or Sunday, but I'll leave it up to you how long we're there for."

Arthur takes a long sip of tea, letting the warmth from it spread all the way to his fingers and toes. This doesn't feel like a dream anymore.

"Sorry?"

"For Christmas," Merlin says, as if it's obvious. "You're coming for Christmas."

"I'm not going to your mum's for Christmas," Arthur protests. He thinks it's ridiculous that it even needs to be said.

"Sure you are. I've already told her you're coming."

"I don't even know your mum. I don't even know you!"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Arthur, you've lived across the hall from me for months. You'd know by now if I was a serial killer."

"I'm not sure that's true," Arthur says slowly.

"It's doesn't matter. I'm not a serial killer."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm your neighbour," Merlin says simply. "And I'm not leaving you alone for Christmas, so finish your tea and start packing."

"I'm not going," Arthur says sternly.

"Yes, you are," Merlin says, his voice just as calm and stern as Arthur's.

"I'm not," Arthur insists. "I'm not intruding on your family holiday. I'll be _fine_, Merlin. I promise. You don't need to look out for me."

"I'm not worried about you," Merlin says, but Arthur can tell it's a lie. "I just don't want you to be alone on Christmas."

"It's _fine_," Arthur says even as his heart sinks a little at those words.

"You're coming with me." Merlin reaches across the table for Arthur's dishes and stands to take them into the kitchen. "You don't have a say."

"I think you'll find that I do have a say," Arthur says, following Merlin to the sink. "I think you're forgetting who I am."

"And who are you?" Merlin says idly as he starts washing off Arthur's plate.

"I'm a lawyer," Arthur says, feeling strangely helpless in the face of Merlin's determination. "I can talk my way out of anything."

"Not this."

Arthur crosses his arms and lets Merlin wash everything without offering to help.

"Look," Merlin says when he's wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Either you come with me to Ealdor or I stay here with you. It's your choice."

Arthur's jaw drops slightly. "You're not staying here with me!"

"Like I said, it's your choice. But I'm not leaving you alone for Christmas."

Arthur studies Merlin's face, looking past the delectable lips and cheekbones and jawline for the first time. He sees an entire ocean of feelings and emotions and care and worry and love in Merlin's eyes.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

Merlin nods.

Arthur takes a deep breath and shakes his head, hating Merlin a little for putting him in this position. He won't admit that he sort of loves Merlin for it, too.

"I can't let you not go to your mum's for Christmas," he mutters.

Merlin's face lights up with a grin that hits Arthur hard in the stomach. "Brilliant. Go pack and meet me in the hallway in half an hour."

He gives Arthur's arm a gentle squeeze on his way out and Arthur's hairs stand on end for thirty minutes.

**-xxx-**

Arthur spends the car ride pretending to sleep to avoid conversation.

Merlin's "car music" turns out to be a collection of Christmas songs that he plays on repeat. Arthur hides in his hoodie, his hands buried in the front pocket and the hood pulled up as far as it can go, and tries not to listen.

He has to admit that it's an impossible task. He knows all of the songs, and knows them well. In years past he even would have sung along to a few of them.

The songs settle around him like old friends and Arthur battles with his emotions for almost an hour before he really lets the music in. He breathes deeply through the initial pain but it's gone soon enough and then he's just left with a lightness in his heart that surprises him. The songs are relentlessly familiar and they let him revisit happier Christmases spent with Morgana and their father, the three of them sitting around the fireplace at the old house, all stuffed on turkey and potatoes and pudding.

He remembers the year that he and Morgana staged a wrapping paper war in the afternoon, using their father's sleeping form on the couch as the boundary line between their sides. Arthur won after he lobbed a wad of paper, held in its perfectly round shape by ribbons and a bow, right into Morgana's eye. She tried to retaliate by throwing the bow back, but she missed and it landed on their father's face and they had to run out of the living room to stop from waking him up with their laughter.

He remembers the year that their father gave him a camera and he spent the rest of the holiday annoying Morgana by taking unflattering pictures of her.

He remembers the year that Morgana drank too much wine during their fancy Christmas dinner and ended up stumbling into the tree and knocking it down.

He remembers the year that he cried on Christmas Eve because another boy at his school told him that he didn't have a real family because he didn't have a mother.

He remembers last year, with his father's pale skin and tired, almost vacant expression. Uther had smiled genuinely when Arthur had given him presents (more books, some new CDs, a neck pillow) and when both Arthur and Morgana had cooked the entire Christmas dinner by themselves, roast turkey and pudding and all.

Arthur remembers wondering on that day if it would be his last Christmas with his father.

He wishes more than anything that it hadn't been.

**-xxx-**

Merlin's mother, Hunith, is one of the nicest women that Arthur has ever met. When Merlin introduces them and Arthur holds out his hand, she hugs him as if she's known him for years, almost as if he's her son, too.

Merlin's best mate, Will, is a little less friendly. He settles for shaking Arthur's hand and spends the afternoon shooting Arthur long, dirty looks, as if Arthur's done something disgusting and shameful.

Merlin is perfectly at ease in his childhood home and Arthur zones in and out of the festivities, thinking about his father's old house and his sister's new, American apartment.

More people show up for Christmas Eve dinner and Arthur's not really sure who most of them are, but they are all very welcoming. He's never experienced a Christmas quite like this, with so many non-relatives, but it makes him feel more at ease. He thinks that this is the sort of Christmas he belongs at, one with friends and neighbours and people who don't put too much emphasis on family.

The mood is joyous and loving and Arthur finds himself relaxing and actually smiling when he takes his place next to Merlin at the dinner table.

The conversation is light and easy. People ask him about his job and how he met Merlin and how long they're staying and what they plan on doing when they go back to London. He finds it amusing that everyone seems to think he and Merlin are the best of friends, but it's easier to play along than to correct them.

Merlin keeps sneaking him secret smiles and they warm him much quicker and deeper than all the wine he's drinking.

The dinner ends with everyone happily giving everyone else a hug and Arthur's arms hurt from squeezing and waving by the time the house is empty again. He stays up late to help Merlin clean up the dining room and the kitchen while Hunith goes to bed.

"Thank you," he says to Merlin when they are blowing out the last candles and heading up the stairs.

"You're welcome," Merlin said simply, a tired but breathlessly genuine smile on his lips. "Sleep well."

"You, too."

**-xxx-**

Arthur has a hard time getting out of his bed in the morning. He listens to Merlin and Hunith walking around downstairs, singing along to the Christmas songs they're listening to, talking and laughing and loving.

He wants to call Morgana but he knows she's still sleeping and he considers hiding in the guest room until it's appropriate to call California, but he doesn't want to be rude.

It takes a while to fully convince himself to do it, but eventually Arthur heaves himself out of the warm bed and makes his way downstairs. The mess of wrapping paper under the tree in the living room tells him that he's missed the gift exchange, but he's immensely relieved at that thought. He has presents for both Merlin and Hunith, small things he picked up at a rest stop on the way to Ealdor, but he knows they're not nearly adequate enough.

He finds Merlin and Hunith at the kitchen table, each of them curled into blankets with their feet in their chairs, drinking hot cocoa and playing a card game.

The sight makes his chest ache but he forces a smile and returns their cheerful chorus of "Happy Christmas."

They teach him their game and he wins the first few rounds, but then Merlin goes on a long winning streak that makes Arthur realize that they had purposely let him win.

He doesn't have an appetite for breakfast, but he sips at Merlin's hot cocoa. When Merlin doesn't complain or even say anything at all, it feels a bit like home and Arthur breathes a little easier after that.

**-xxx-**

The day is slow and warm and no one ever bothers changing out of their pajamas, not even when Will and his mother show up for Christmas dinner. Hunith hadn't let Arthur help with the preparations, but Merlin had let him chop up a few apples for the fruit salad behind Hunith's back. Arthur wishes he could have helped more because he wants to feel like he's less of an intrusion on their quiet day together. They don't actually seem to mind his presence, though, so he tries to convince himself that it doesn't matter.

Dinner is mostly happy with an undercurrent of something Arthur can't identify until he realizes for the first time that neither Merlin nor Will have fathers present at the table. He thinks for a while about where they might be, but then decides that it's irrelevant. He gives Will a small smile and Will actually returns it, leading Arthur to wonder if Merlin has told Will that he, too, is now missing his father on Christmas.

It's the unsaid things that dictate the mood of the evening, which ebbs and flows from a nostalgic sadness at what is lost to heartbreaking joy at what is still here.

No one says anything when Arthur excuses himself after dinner and goes up to the guest room to call Morgana.

"So I guess you're expecting I'll just forgive you for being an arse because you're calling on Christmas," she says when she answers.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice already breaking.

"Don't be sorry for your feelings," she says gently. "Just don't cut me out."

"I'm sorry," Arthur says again, digging his fingers into his eyes to stop the tears. "I miss you. I miss him. I couldn't bear the thought-"

"Hush," Morgana whispers. "Just breathe. I miss you, too... both of you."

Arthur sniffs and tries to pull himself together. "Are you alone?"

"No. I'm with friends. Are you alone?"

"No," Arthur repeats. "I'm with friends."

There's a long pause and Arthur can hear the hitch in Morgana's breath.

"I'll come home next year," she says, sounding miserable.

Arthur closes his eyes and tries to say that she doesn't have to, that he understands her schedule, that it's not a big deal.

"Please," is all he can say. "Please try."

"I will. I promise."

After they hang up, Arthur covers his face with his hands and lets himself cry.

**-xxx-**

Arthur decides to spend the rest of the evening in bed. He doesn't even care how rude he's being; he doesn't want to see or talk to anyone else.

He gets under the covers with a book and his iPod, listening to music that has nothing at all to do with Christmas.

He almost doesn't hear the knock but he takes off his headphones to check and there's definitely someone on the other side of the door.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?" Merlin's voice is slightly muffled by the barrier between them.

Arthur scrambles out from under the covers and sits on the foot of the bed, trying to look innocent and not like he was avoiding the people who had been so selflessly nice to him.

"Yes."

Merlin steps inside and closes the door behind him. His hair is a mess and his face is a bit pink from drinking wine.

"We've got pudding, if you like. Or brownies and ice cream. Will you come down?"

Arthur can't think of a polite way to say no, so he gets off the bed and follows Merlin downstairs. Hunith and Will's mum are sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by sweets and pudding and bottles of wine. They've got tears in their eyes from laughing so much and Merlin keeps rolling his eyes and giving them indulgent smiles as he piles food onto plates for him and Arthur.

They eat out in the living room with Will, who is a much more sombre drunk. Arthur appreciates that and sits silently on the couch as they watch some bad action film on the telly.

Will and his mum leave when the movie ends. Arthur offers to drive them home but it turns out they only live down the street. There are hugs all around, even between Will and Arthur.

"You're lovely together," Will's mum says when she hugs Arthur. Arthur has absolutely no idea what she's referring to, but he nods and smiles anyway and lets her kiss his cheek before she stumbles out the door on her way home.

Arthur insists that he clean up the kitchen by himself, so Hunith gives him a long, achingly sweet hug before going to bed and Merlin just smiles at him before going into the living room. Arthur puts all the food away, carefully wrapped to preserve it, then washes and dries all the dishes by hand so he can put them away and leave the kitchen spotless.

When he's done, he drinks a glass of wine by himself, staring out the kitchen window and watching the stillness of the garden. He thinks about Morgana and their father, and then he thinks about Merlin and Hunith. They didn't have to welcome him into their home and their lives, but they did and he's not sure how to properly express his gratitude. His first Christmas without Uther certainly could have been a lot worse; it definitely would have been, had Arthur been left on his own in London.

He's sure that, after this, he and Merlin will actually have to become friends, and the thought makes him smile. Merlin is almost impossibly nice but there's something else below the surface that makes Arthur want to know more, something in the way Merlin looks at him.

When the wine is gone, Arthur sets his glass in the sink and it's the only sign that anything has happened in the kitchen that day. He wanders out to the living room but stops in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat.

The room is dark except for the lights from the Christmas tree and a couple of candles flickering on the windowsill. Merlin is curled up on the couch under a blanket, reading a book. There's an empty bottle of wine on the floor in front of him. His eyelashes are casting long shadows on his cheekbones, and his cheekbones look like sharp cliffs over the hollows of his face.

Arthur watches for a while, trying to untangle his feelings.

Merlin looks up during a yawn and gives him a slow, sleepy smile.

"D'you have a good day?" he asks, patting the space next to him.

Arthur sits down and lets Merlin adjust the blanket until it's covering them both.

"I think so," Arthur says, slotting a pillow behind his head. "It was... it was nice."

"Good."

Merlin goes back to his book and Arthur reads over his shoulder, not really taking in the words. After a while his eyes slip from the book to Merlin's face and he reads the story there, instead.

Arthur doesn't know how much time goes by before Merlin closes the book and pushes it to the side.

"Can't keep my eyes open," Merlin mutters, pulling all his limbs closer.

Arthur hums in agreement, his eyes still on Merlin's face.

"Where's your mum?" Merlin asks after a few minutes.

"Died when I was born. Your dad?"

"Died a few years go. Only met him once."

Arthur nods and fits that piece of information into the puzzle of Merlin that he is slowly working out. Merlin lets out a content sigh and leans to the side, his head coming to rest on Arthur's shoulder.

"Sorry," he mumbles, barely audible. "M'drunk."

Arthur moves slowly until his arm is around Merlin's shoulders and Merlin is pressed warmly against his whole side. He drifts off, listening to the even sounds of Merlin's breathing and imagining the Christmas tree lights dancing around them.

**-xxx-**

Arthur wakes up with a pain in his neck and one of his arms completely numb. He tries moving it but it seems to be trapped under something and when he opens his eyes, he sees that it's Merlin.

He tries not to ruin moment but his shoulder is aching and he can't fall back asleep. As gently as he can, Arthur pulls his arm out from under Merlin's back and shakes it lazily in front of himself. He checks the time on his watch; it's barely four o'clock. The room is still lit by the Christmas tree lights and Arthur wishes that he could freeze time and stay in this eery, half-asleep Christmas forever.

Merlin groans and Arthur stops shaking his arm.

"Sorry," he whispers.

Merlin makes a few more pathetic, sleepy sounds as he pushes himself upright and starts rubbing his eyes like a child.

"Time's'it?"

"Four in the morning."

Merlin yawns, wide and loose. "Should... bed," he mumbles, struggling to his feet. He pulls the blanket firmly around himself and waddles towards the stairs, stumbling over the trailing ends of it.

Arthur gets up and guides a still-drunk Merlin up the stairs and into his room. Merlin collapses on his bed and seems to fall back asleep immediately, so Arthur wrestles the covers out from under him.

When Arthur drapes them over Merlin, Merlin squirms until an arm gets loose from his blanket cocoon. He reaches out, pulling Arthur down onto the bed with him.

Too tired and warm and lonely to protest, Arthur gets under the covers and slots himself behind Merlin, resting his forehead on the back of Merlin's neck. Merlin pulls one of Arthur's arms around his middle and they both fall asleep again, their fingers entwined over Merlin's chest.

**-xxx-**

Arthur wakes up feeling strange and confused and it takes him an embarrassingly long moment to figure out where he is and why he's smiling.

Merlin is still and warm in his grip and he snuggles closer before closing his eyes again, hoping he can sleep for the rest of his holiday.

"Awake?" Merlin's voice is scratchy and deep and Arthur can feel it rumbling through him.

"Sorry," Arthur says, his voice just as hoarse. "Were you waiting for me?"

"No."

"Okay." He waits a long minute before moving, then shifts up until his nose hits the shell of Merlin's ear. "I don't really know how to say thank you. And I'm sorry if I've been moody."

"S'ok." Merlin curls his fingers around Arthur's hand. "D'you talk to your sister yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

They stay like that for a while, but Arthur can tell from Merlin's breathing that he's not asleep, either.

Arthur takes in as much of Merlin's room as he can without turning his head. He can see a full bookshelf, a few art prints on the wall, and an open door.

It takes him a few minutes to realize that it's not a closet door; it's the door to the hallway.

"Shit," he mutters, pulling his hand out of Merlin's grip and rolling onto his back. "The door's open."

"So?" Merlin tries to turn over but gets caught in the blanket still wrapped around him and he has an epic and violent battle with it until it's on the floor and he's on his side, staring at Arthur. "So?" he repeats.

"Your mum," Arthur says, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"What about her?"

"She'll have seen us." Arthur blushes at the implications but Merlin just blinks at him.

"She doesn't care. Her room's on the other end of the hall, anyway. She probably didn't see."

"Oh."

"Would it bother you if she had seen?" Merlin asks carefully.

"No."

They stare at each other for a moment and Arthur thinks he probably has pillow lines on his face and a horrible case of bed hair, but Merlin doesn't look bothered.

"When we get back to London, would you want to get some coffee or something sometime?"

Arthur can't help but laugh. "Is this you asking me out on a date?"

Merlin nods, looking torn between embarrassment and hopefulness.

"We can have coffee in London," Arthur says, reaching out to rest his hand on Merlin's waist, "if I can kiss you here."

Merlin inches across the bed until they're completely pressed together from head to toe and then he presses their lips together, too.

Arthur opens his mouth immediately, his head dizzy with the knowledge that Merlin's lips feel even better than he had ever imagined. They're hot and wet and demanding and there's not an inch of Arthur that isn't tingling with desire for them. He pushes his hand under Merlin's many layers until he finds skin and then he lets his fingers roam over Merlin's warm back, using the leverage to hold Merlin even closer.

Merlin worms one of his hands between them and after a few seconds, Arthur feels Merlin's cold hand sliding over his stomach and up to his chest.

"We should probably close the door," he says against Merlin's lips, "or wait until we get home."

Merlin ignores him and continues mapping his chest with slowly-warming fingers until he's hard and moaning into Merlin's mouth.

"You don't know how many times I've thought about doing this," Arthur whispers, letting his hand slide around to Merlin's front. He traces the soft hairs trailing below Merlin's belly button and feels Merlin's stomach trembling from the touch.

"Probably not as many times as I have." Merlin kisses up Arthur's jaw and flicks his tongue against Arthur's ear.

Arthur gasps and pulls Merlin in for another kiss. He wants more but he knows it's not going to happen here, in Merlin's old bed with the door wide open, so he lets Merlin soften the kiss until they're just teasing each other with smiling pecks.

"There's probably breakfast," Merlin says, running a hand through Arthur's hair.

"I think I'll change first. I'm still in my pajamas from Christmas Eve."

Merlin smiles. "Me, too, actually. I guess I should put on some real clothes."

Arthur nods and gives Merlin another long kiss before rolling out of the bed and ambling down the hall, not letting himself look back.

He changes slowly into jeans and a sweater, giving his erection enough time to give up hope and calm down.

When he emerges from the guest room, Merlin is waiting outside with a smile that Arthur could definitely get used to, given the chance. Merlin takes his hand and leads him down the stairs. Arthur tries to pull away when they reach the kitchen but Merlin holds on tightly.

Hunith doesn't even blink at their display, just smiles and pours them some orange juice as they sit down at the table. Arthur wonders if she saw it coming or if maybe she even thought they were already together. Maybe everyone had thought that; it would certainly explain what Will's mum had said the night before. He wants to ask exactly what Merlin had told everyone about who he is and how they know each other, but then Hunith gives them coffee cake for breakfast and he decides to worry about it later. It doesn't really matter what everyone thought about them before. All that matters is that Merlin is playing footsie with him under the table.

It's definitely still the holiday season and Arthur knows that the Christmas tree will stay up for a few more days, but everything feels more relaxed now that the big day is finally over with. It was hard at times and easy at others, but he survived and he has Merlin to thank for that.

Arthur watches Merlin openly as they eat their coffee cake, wondering if he can convince Merlin to take him into town that afternoon so he can buy them proper Christmas gifts. Then maybe they'll spend Friday doing something relaxing with Will. They'll head back to London on Saturday morning and get "coffee or something" in the afternoon and spend the night together in Arthur's bed. And maybe they won't leave Arthur's bed until New Year's and then it'll be January and they can start a proper romance, free of looming family holidays.

Merlin's foot slides up Arthur's shin and Arthur blushes, kicking Merlin away. Merlin laughs and kisses Arthur over the kitchen table. He brushes the crumbs off Arthur's lips afterwards and leans in again for a softer, sweeter kiss.

Hunith still just smiles and Arthur knows that she's seen it all along and decides he's going to buy her something very expensive to make up for the fact that he's probably going to do something naughty to her son in her house that night.


End file.
